


i think you'll understand

by oakleaf_bearer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Communication, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martin is a good boyfriend, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakleaf_bearer/pseuds/oakleaf_bearer
Summary: Jon couldn't remember the last time someone had put a hand on him out of kindness.-inspired by the whole 'dont touch me' in 187
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 64
Kudos: 548





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ty to iez for beta reading this for me!

Jon has a.... complicated relationship with touch. He's never been one to show affection physically, choosing instead to listen to people and remember what they told him. He still knows how Georgie got the scar on her knee and why she thinks Labyrinth 'just gets it' as a film. Both things she told him in passing, but both things that stuck with him far more than her touching him. 

Jon didn't think Martin was particularly physical either, but then he'd taken Martin's hand and pulled him out of the Lonely and suddenly Jon never wanted to let go. He spent the train ride from Euston to Glasgow wondering if Martin wanted him to let go, and the train ride from Glasgow to Perth trying to remember any other time they had touched. Casual shoulder brushes in the corridor were common as the archives weren't exactly spacious. Martin helped patch him up after Michael stabbed him, but that had been fleeting; one quick embrace just before Jon left for the Unknowing, but lingering. Not like this. 

Ten hours. 

By the time they reached Inverness, Martin's hand had been holding Jon's for ten hours. Probably more, counting all the time on the platforms. As they stood staring at the rental car, Jon realised he would have to let go at some point. 

"So..." Martin started.

"Yes." Jon squeezed his hand a little tighter. "Right."

"We should-" He pointed at the doorway. "You know." 

"Of course." 

Jon knew he was stalling. He just didn't want to let go. 

Martin sighed and pulled Jon towards him. "Give me the keys."

"What? No, I'll drive, you need sleep."

"No offence, but you've spent years living in central London. When was the last time you actually drove?" 

Jon opened his mouth to respond, then paused. He couldn't quite remember. "You have a point." He handed him the keys. 

"I know I do. Besides, it'll be nice to drive in the countryside, I haven't done it in years." Martin walked to the driver-side door. "I always used to take main roads whenever I visited Mum, so I haven't seen actual fields in ages." He paused, one hand on the door handle and gently pulled with the other. "I will need that hand."

"Oh, right, sorry." Jon let go and the seal was broken. He immediately missed the sensation of Martin's palm against his. "Right." 

Jon remained standing there, watching Martin open the door and climb in. Martin looked up at him and gestured to the other side of the car.

"Oh." Jon hurried to the passenger-side door. 

The urge to reach across the console and put a hand on Martin's arm was so strong that Jon nearly caved, but then they were pulling out of the car park and setting off for the safehouse. 

_Later. There would be time later._

_Always later._

The safehouse was small, a tiny patch of land with an even tinier cottage. 

They awkwardly shuffled around each other as they unpacked. The duffel bag of supplies Basira had given them would last a few days, but they would still need to go shopping. 

Jon was on tiptoes, trying to reach to one of the higher cupboards to put away a tin of soup. He hadn't heard Martin enter the room. 

A small, amused sound was the only warning he got before there was a hand on the small of his back.

Jon flinched so hard he dropped the tin. He sprang away from the touch, needing to put space between them. Get away, get away, get _away_.

"Jon?"

Hot wax.

"Jon, can you hear me?"

Plastic hands covered in lotion. 

"Jon, I need you to breathe, can you do that for me?"

Elias' enthusiastic encouragement of his 'progress' with a hand on his shoulder.

"I won't touch you, but I need you to tell me what's wrong."

Hands pinning him to a tree, knife against his throat, threats growled into his ear, the knowledge that he is about to die burning in his brain. 

"It's just me, it's just me, here, look at me."

Martin's hands bracketing his face, not touching, just waiting, there if he needs him, if he wants him. 

"Jon?"

_Martin_. 

Jon was on the floor. He didn't remember collapsing, but he must've. He was curled against the fridge, Martin crouched in front of him, beautiful blue eyes wide with concern. Martin was holding his hands up, leaving a few inches of space between them, enough that he wasn't touching Jon, but Jon could easily lean into him if he wanted. Jon did a mental checklist. No bandages, not even a scratch. All the scars on his body were old now. He was okay, there were no hands on his arms, no fingertips digging bruises into his wrists, nothing holding him down, to stop him from getting away. 

_Only_ _Martin_. 

Jon exhaled slowly. 

"What happened?" 

"Touch. I, ah, I didn't expect you to touch me." He didn't meet Martin's eyes. "It startled me."

"Oh Jon," Martin sighed, sitting on the floor properly. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think."

"No, it's fine. It's just- It's easier to be prepared when I know it's coming."

"I am so, so sorry." 

"You didn't know."

"I could've guessed. You've been through hell, Jon. Not wanting touch is understandable."

"I don't not want it, I just- I want it to be easy again. Like on the train." He stared down at his hands. "That was so simple. And I liked it, I liked holding your hand, letting go was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but then I didn't know how to-" He groaned. "I wanted to have one nice thing for once, but now I've ruined it."

"Ruined it? Jon, you haven't ruined anything. Sure, things are a little different, but all this has done is provide context. I know to ask in the future, that's all."

Jon frowned. "Ask? Ask what?"

"If you're okay with me touching you."

Jon shook his head. "Why would you- Why ask?" 

It was Martin's turn to frown. "In case something like this happens again. I don't want to accidentally trigger you by doing something you're not comfortable with." 

Jon just blinked at him, confused.

"Jon," Martin said slowly, "When was the last time someone asked if they could touch you?" 

That was easy, it was... Wait. Daisy? No, she would just curl up against him in silence. Basira? Melanie? They'd hardly ever touched to begin with. Tim? He could barely stand to be near Jon in the end, let alone touch him. Jude had demanded he shake her hand; it was a bargaining chip, not consent. Nikola had gagged him to stop his pleas to be released, to have a single moment free of touch. Elias had never asked if Jon was okay with anything. 

Jon couldn't remember the last time someone had put a hand on him out of kindness. 

Bile rose in his throat. Martin seemed to notice just at the last second and he thrust the mop bucket in front of Jon. 

His stomach was far too empty to actually vomit, but his body still worked through the motions, shaking with exertion as he wretched into the bucket. 

"Jon, can I touch your hair? I need to get it out of your way." 

_'I know to ask in the future.'_

Words failed him, but Jon managed to nod. Martin caught his motion and reached out to stroke Jon's hair away from his face. He steered clear of Jon's neck, only brushing his fingers through the hair there briefly as he gathered it all into a loose ponytail in his fist. 

Jon leant into it. When his body had calmed down, he looked up at Martin and gave him a weak smile. 

"Sorry." 

"Don't apologise."

Jon nodded. Logically, he knew it wasn't his fault. His head filled with facts about trauma response and coping mechanisms, but he shoved them aside in favour of slowly reaching out to take Martin's free hand. Martin watched his movement carefully, ready to pull back at any sign of distress. 

Martin's fingertips brushed against Jon's cheek. 

"This is okay?" Martin whispered. 

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, feeling the sensation of Martin's hands, one in his hair, one on his cheek. 

"Yes." Jon's voice was hoarse. "Yes, this is okay." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thank you to iez for beta-reading this

"You're sure you're okay with this?" 

"I want to know my limits. I'd rather find out here where I know I'm safe than out there." Jon shook his head. "I trust you more than I trust the rest of the world." 

Martin nodded. 

They were crossed-legged on the sofa facing each other. Martin had suggested sitting on the bed, but Jon had declined. Too many connotations there that he didn't feel one hundred percent comfortable discussing yet, and he'd rather be able to focus on one thing at a time. Basic ground rules first, more intricate things later. 

"So-" Jon started, then immediately trailed off. This was completely unfamiliar territory. No one had ever stuck around long enough to want to go over his boundaries, let alone sat down with the specific intent to learn and respect them. Martin was a bizarre enigma; a small fragment of a world completely separate from Jon's comfort zone and yet lodged directly into his heart. He was patient, loving, and fearless ruthless when he needed to be. It was a balancing act that made Jon's head spin, but Martin pulled it off like it was nothing. "I don't know where to begin." 

"What do you know you're uncomfortable with?" 

"Anything below the waist." Jon said easily. "My legs might be an exception to that, but signal that that's where you're aiming first." He prodded his knee. "And nothing too high up. That's an entirely different conversation that we do need to have at some point, but at the moment just consider that area a blanket no." 

Martin. "And your chest?" 

"I'm mostly okay with that. Not my stomach and not my sides, but my chest should be okay." He picked at a loose thread on the blanket below them. "Just don't... rub, if that makes any sense."

Martin nodded slowly. "It does."

"Good."

"What about your shoulders?"

"Just don't put a hand there when you're talking to me and it should be okay. Your hands aren't like his."

Martin didn't ask who he meant. Probably didn't need to. 

"Arms?" 

"They should be alright."

"What about your wrists? I'm guessing they're a no?" 

Jon considered it. He hadn't thought about that, but Martin did raise a good point. He'd been tied up or pinned down enough times that he didn't like things around his wrists. He'd given up wearing his watch. At the time he'd told himself that he could just Know what time it was, but looking back the feeling of the leather around his wrist was just a bit too much. "You're right. If you brush past me it'll be fine but please don't just grab them."

"Hands?"

"I like holding your hands, it's comforting. I can't really feel anything in my right hand but just knowing you're there is nice." 

Martin hummed. "You like me touching your hair, right?" 

Jon nodded enthusiastically. "Very much so. I don't like my neck being touched, but you're so gentle with my hair, it's calming."

Martin grinned. "You're like a cat." 

"No Im not." Jon frowned. "I'm not nearly adorable enough to be a cat."

"I beg to differ." 

"I assure you I am not a cat." 

"I've caught you laying in a patch of sunlight more than once." Martin laughed. 

Jon sputtered. "It's warmer!"

"It's adorable!" Martin reached for Jon's hands and paused, letting Jon bridge the gap between them. He took them, tangling their fingers together, rubbing his thumb along Martin's knuckles. 

"Thank you. I mean it, I know this has been a lot, but..."

"It was a big thing to open up about this." Martin raised Jon's left hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. "Thank you for trusting me." 

Jon smiled at him. "You mean the world to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, i do not have touch based trauma so i am so sorry if i have missed the mark with this 
> 
> if i have, please let me know and i will do my best to educate myself and correct my mistakes 
> 
> ty all so much for all of the truly wonderful comments, you're all incredible

**Author's Note:**

> i dont have ptsd or trauma, so pls tell me if i couldve done this better  
> i did get it checked by a friend and he said it was all good, but i want to make sure
> 
> title is from 'i want to hold your hand' by the beatles
> 
> come find me [on insta](https://www.instagram.com/statement_boo_gins/) or [on tumblr](https://oakleaf--bearer.tumblr.com/), i take prompts and dms on both 
> 
> comments and kudos keep me writing, pls leave some!


End file.
